


Prompt: Nighty

by BiancaIcaras



Series: Creativity Night Finnemore February February 21st [2]
Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: I'm sorry I haven't a clue, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaIcaras/pseuds/BiancaIcaras





	Prompt: Nighty

It was a quiet day in the Driver/Manager household. They both had the day off so they had spent the night before playing boardgames and had slept in till 1 PM. After a hearty lunch they had turned on the radio while the Driver read a book and the Manager skimmed through the paper. 

“We present: I'm sorry I haven't a clue. The antidote to panelgames. With at the piano Colin Sell and your chairman is Jack Dee.” 

“Oh good, Not a Clue.” said the Manager.   
“What?” the Driver looked up while the Manager went over to turn up the radio.   
“You don't know I'm sorry I haven't a clue? This is classic radio!” the Manager said, slightly insulted. He went on to explain the program very quickly, and then shushed the Driver.   
“I want to hear the dictionary bit. We can do that on our quiet days as well, you know.”  
The introductory bit had almost ended when the Driver sighed and turned back to his paper.

“We start this week by a look at the new entries in the Oxbridge English Dictionary. Tim?” the host, or chairman, as he was supposed to be called, said.   
“Gastrick. Raising energy prices without your customers knowing.”  
“And Barry?”  
“Twerk. What we do in Yorkshire between nine and five.”   
“John.”  
“Smirk. Summerset for: It's a Mercedes.”

The game went on for a bit and the Driver smiled at hearing the Manager scribbling along with them. He would remember it just like that, but would totally not tell him. No sense in losing again. 

“Barney. Rather like a barn.”

“Good one.” the Driver murmered. 

“Inferno. Assume not.”  
“Sellery. Bit like a cellar.”  
“Eary. Bit like an ear.”

“Does he always do that?” the Driver asked the Manager.   
“What?” the Manager asked distractedly. 

“Whiskey. Bit like a whisk.”

“Never mind...” the Driver said. 

“Well the teams are going to sing for us now, in a round...” 

 

It was about a week later when the Manager was about to nod off against the Driver on the sofa. 

“Nighty. Bit like a night”.


End file.
